


if i breathe (it's alright)

by tentoheaven (firstmins)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Overthinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:42:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstmins/pseuds/tentoheaven
Summary: It's not the first time Taeyong's thoughts consume him, nor will it be the last. Still, with Doyoung by his side the weight on his chest feels slightly less heavy.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 3
Kudos: 79





	if i breathe (it's alright)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to comfort myself when I was feeling down last night, I hope it can comfort some of you too.

Taeyong hates feeling like this. Hates feeling like he’s either too much or not enough. Hates craving the care of others, but not wanting to burden them. 

The feeling is a familiar one, one that grows stronger every now and then only to fade away again. Then, out of nowhere, it returns. It’s a never ending cycle, the menacing thoughts turning on and off like a lightswitch every few days. No, hours. 

The worst part is that it’s mostly unprompted. When the seed of a self-loathing hought is planted in his head, the smallest comment will open a dam of unwelcome emotions, like a heavy weight settling on his chest. He despises it. 

Yet he finds himself in the dark staring at the ceiling again, mind racing, each new thought pushing him closer to the edge. He thinks of his day, which had been so good in the moment but has now left him with a bitter aftertaste. It’s nobody’s fault but his own.

He’d spent the day with his friends, mostly. Work had been tiring, but manageable. Once he got off he met up with Johnny and Taeil, an old habit that never fully faded. It’d been fine, pleasant even. 

It’s only afterwards that he started thinking, about the thinks he could have said, the things he  _ should _ have said. The things he did say, but maybe shouldn’t have. It’s a familiar process, however unwanted. 

Above all it’s ridiculous, really, because these are his friends. Some of the closest people in his life. To them it doesn’t matter if he’s a bit quieter than usual on some days, or the exact opposite on others. He  _ knows _ this, but still his brain refuses to cooperate. 

The pressure on his chest tightens, turning into a physical pain. How long would it take before his friends grew tired of him, this time?

_ No _ , he tells himself,  _ you’re not going down this road again. Johnny and Taeil love you.  _

His mind wanders. 

_ Doyoung loves you.  _

He feels stupid, pathetic, when tears well up at the thought. It’s something that up until this day he doesn’t understand, but feels so grateful for. It’s something that he’s afraid to fully believe, just in case it might slip out from his grasp at any moment. 

He turns on his side with a sigh, gaze slipping to the empty sheets next to him. Doyoung has a late shift tonight, had warned him about it with a text a few hours ago. Taeyong feels the urge to reach for his phone, ask whether he’ll be home soon, but pushes it away. What does it matter? Taeyong will still be awake anyway, no matter if Doyoung comes home in two minutes or in two hours. There’s no need to bother him over some irrational thoughts. 

In his mind he can already hear Doyoung’s scoldings.  _ Your feelings are valid, Taeyong. Stop acting like they don’t matter. _

He smiles sadly, then sniffles. 

A tear slips from his eye, making its way onto the pillow. It’s dumb, all of this. Doyoung will get worried once he sees Taeyong in this state, and for what? The same bullshit as last month, and two weeks before that and so on. Doyoung must be growing tired of it, too. 

Taeyong is tired. All the time, lately. It’s mainly his own fault, he knows, for staying up late for no reason when he knows he has an early shift the next morning. But he prefers it this way, passing through the day with a hazy mind and then staying awake, distracting himself until he physically can’t keep his eyes open any longer. It’s how he lives, though Doyoung likes to say it’s barely living. Maybe Doyoung is right. He usually is. 

All Taeyong knows is that going through life as a zombie, running on four hours of sleep each night, is better than the alternative. The alternative being his current predicament. 

In the past few days he’s been getting more agitated, more easily annoyed, and that’s a clear sign that the lack of sleep is getting to him. So fine, he’d sleep early tonight, no big deal. 

Except it’s past one in the morning now and it’s been three hours since he decided to go to sleep. He’s fucking  _ exhausted _ , yet his brain refuses to shut down. Another tear rolls down his cheek, this time from frustration. 

He startles at the sound of the key turning in the front door’s lock, shortly before it’s being pushed open. 

_ Doyoung.  _

Another flurry of emotions rush through him, ranging from relief to shame to guilt. Doyoung must be tired as well, and the last thing Taeyong wants is to keep him awake just because he’s being a cry baby again. 

Footsteps approach their shared bedroom and Taeyong closes his eyes, hoping the tear tracks can’t be seen in the darkness of the room. The bed dips next to him, and moments later there’s an arm slung around his waist, pulling him closer. He’s enveloped by warmth and a scent so comforting it makes him tear up again. 

“Hey baby,” Doyoung mumbles lazily, brushing a hand through Taeyong’s hair. 

He can’t muster up more than a sniffle in response and instantly feels Doyoung’s arms tense around him. Next thing he knows he’s gently being pushed back, much to his dismay. His eyes are still closed, but he can feel Doyoung’s gaze burning into his skin. 

A cold but gentle hand is placed on his cheek. Doyoung thumbs away his tears while humming something under his breath. 

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong breathes. He can imagine the look on Doyoung’s face, the concern laced with tiredness. 

“What for?” His tone is gentle, soothing. It’s one of the things that made Taeyong fall in love with him in the first place, his voice. The way it can always calm him down, silencing the thoughts in his head. 

He’s hesitant to answer, if only because he doesn’t have one.  _ I’m sorry for being sad for no reason, again. Sorry that I keep burdening you with this. Sorry that I always go tumbling down right when I think I’m doing better. Sorry that you have to put up with me.  _

“Hey,” Doyoung cuts through his thoughts, voice firm, “none of that.”

Taeyong finally opens his eyes, confused by his words. He exhales steadily when their eyes meet. Doyoung’s eyes have always been beautiful, but they’re mesmerising in moments like these. At night, when the sole source of light is the moonshine falling through the window, they sparkle like diamonds. 

“I can almost hear you thinking. Can’t imagine how loud it must be for you in there.” He taps his finger against Taeyong’s forehead, pulling a small chuckle out of him. 

“I’m so tired,” he confesses, wriggling closer to Doyoung, burying his face in his neck.

Like this it feels like he can breathe again, surrounded by Doyoung’s warmth, his arms holding him tightly and only the sound of their mingled breaths and steady heartbeats filling the room. 

Doyoung’s hand massages the back of his neck gently. “I know you are, darling. It’s okay to feel that way.” The words are spoken with a certain degree of caution that Taeyong is only able to detect due to the years of knowing him. It fills him with love, the way Doyoung always takes care of him, despite claiming he doesn’t know how to. 

_ I’m bad at comforting people, _ Doyoung once told him, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. His smile was the most endearing thing Taeyong had ever seen.  _ It’s like the words I need are just out of reach, no matter how hard I try to find them. _

Now, years later, Taeyong still thinks it’s as ridiculous as the first time he heard it. What does it matter if Doyoung doesn’t have the perfect words, or isn’t able to give him the solution to his problems? 

This, Doyoung holding him when he feels so painfully alone, is all he’s ever needed. It’s enough. 

“I love you.”

The words are breathed into his hair, soft like a confession. Taeyong’s eyes sting, overwhelmed by the feeling of pure adoration that washes over him. 

He presses a kiss in Doyoung’s neck while he tangles their legs together. His eyes fall shut, sleep finally, finally embracing him. Before he loses consciousness, he murmurs his reply. There’s a chance that Doyoung doesn’t hear him, but that’s okay. He knows. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos/bookmarks are always appreciated <3  
> You can also find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/tentoheaven), let's be friends~


End file.
